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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24105043">The Broken Places Where We Fit</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/HappyDagger/pseuds/HappyDagger'>HappyDagger</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>A Song of Ice and Fire &amp; Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alpha Ramsay Bolton, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bonding, Dubious Consent, Forced Bonding, Forced Marriage, Forced Orgasm, Gender Dysphoria, M/M, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Not Canon Compliant, Obsessive Behavior, Omega Theon Greyjoy, Possessive Behavior, Ramsay Bolton is His Own Warning, Ramsay is an unreliable narrator by which I mean he's a fucking liar, Rape/Non-con Elements, Theon you ignorant slut, Unhealthy Relationships, What Have I Done, possibly- I'd rather tag it in case it could trigger people, probably unfair to the Starks because of the biased perspectives</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-03 00:21:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,279</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24105043</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/HappyDagger/pseuds/HappyDagger</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>For Thramsay Kink Meme: Ramsay and Theon get married.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ramsay Bolton &amp; Roose Bolton, Ramsay Bolton/Theon Greyjoy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>162</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Thramsay2020 Kinkmeme Event</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Broken Places Where We Fit</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/sylvanWhispers/gifts">sylvanWhispers</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Theon had tried a hundred different ways to at least fake being happy about Robb’s wedding but he only felt bitter. </p><p>Bitter that Robb had turned Alpha already while Theon still had to pay prostitutes to lie and say he was. Terrified that he wouldn’t turn out like Robb at all. </p><p>Bitter over how eager Robb seemed rid of himself of Theon. How easy, at least, it had been for him to outgrow his childhood affection for a mentor and playmate. Now that he had everything wide open to him, Theon faded in Robb’s dim periphery.</p><p>Bitter that Ned Stark had made it clear Theon wasn’t fit to marry any of his children. “You’re like a brother to them,” Ned would say anytime Theon tried to broach the subject, his great calloused hand heavy on Theon’s shoulder. Robb said they weren’t brothers after all when Wildlings threatened lame little Bran so Ned looked Theon in the eyes and lied. Always “<em> ...like a brother to them”, </em> never “... <em> like a son to me</em>.” </p><p>It was said Roose Bolton, Leech Lord of the Dreadfort, began supporting his son when some peasant brought the bastard baby to his door. The cruelest living man in all of Westeros, people said, yet even he wouldn’t kill his son. So Theon was no son nor brother to the Starks and it made his heart bitter.  </p><p>Bolton’s bastard seemed to hear Theon’s thoughts from across the Frey’s damp and crowded hall. Theon hid his face in his chalice and drank the wine down until his stomach warmed. <em> Damn it. </em> He hadn’t meant to stare. </p><p>Formal gatherings between Houses didn’t offer many chances for children to talk. Still, the few times Theon and Bolton boy had been in the same room over the years, he would always grin at Theon with a glint in his eye as if making a threat and Theon would always smile back. Maybe to say <em> go ahead, bastard, </em> or maybe because someone noticed <b>him</b> instead of the Stark children for once. Maybe they were both cynics looking in from the outside and laughing at the stupid farces people construct and then take so seriously. </p><p>Thankfully, Robb’s wedding had been nothing like this. He’d eloped, so overtaken by his fucking hormones that he broke his bond. Everyone had heard rumors of Alphas who cheated on their mate, and bastards like the Bolton boy proved it happened, but breaking a bond was nearly unheard of. <em> Nearly, </em> because Rhaegar Targaryen had broken his bond with his mate, Elia, and started a war two decades ago. </p><p>At least Robb’s elopement wouldn’t have such dramatic consequences.</p><p>Theon had tried to be the fucking voice of reason; a role he is unqualified for, yet forced to play again and again. But like his plans, desires, and feelings, Theon’s advice went ignored. </p><p>So he sat, brooding bitterly, in a dark back corner of a fat, dull, tower with bastards, knights, and lesser nobles while the Tullys, Frey’s, and Starks celebrated with major players in it’s more glamorous twin. Robb must be having the time of his fucking life. Meanwhile, Theon didn’t even have Jon to make fun of and only thoughts of his family to torment him. </p><p>Robb thought Theon could convince his father to send the Iron Fleet to aid in his war against the Lannisters. Catelyn trusted neither Theon nor his father. </p><p>Assuming the role of cool voice-of-reason allowed Theon to bide his time. There was no hope that Balon would ever take Theon seriously unless he turned out the right way, as his older sister had already. As his dead brothers had. He rolled his head back and let it rest on the cold stone wall. Two opposing hypotheses pulled his thoughts into a black whirlpool for the thousandth time: all his siblings were Alphas so he <em> must </em> turn out the right way as well and all his siblings have been Alphas so there was <em> no way </em>he could. Maester Luwin said that siblings provide no clues and Theon would have to wait.</p><p>But he couldn’t afford to wait any longer.</p><p>Theon’s heart began pounding in his throat. He needed more wine. He spun to find the carafe and hit a wall of flesh. “Oh, shit.” He bent down to retrieve the cup he’d dropped and rose to find the Bolton bastard’s clear gray eyes staring right into his. </p><p>Theon smiled. “It didn’t spill.”</p><p>The bastard smiled back with his lips together, suppressing a laugh.</p><p>Theon showed him the cup. “Empty.” What the fuck was his name?<em> Roose Junior? </em>“Tragedy averted.” </p><p>This boy did<em> not </em> blink. </p><p>Theon inched past him and headed toward a serving wench. </p><p>“You’re Robb Stark’s prisoner.”</p><p>“Yes- wait, what?” Theon stopped and turned. “Partner?”</p><p>“Prisoner,” he repeated coolly. </p><p>“No. Perhaps you're thinking of the Kingslayer.” He should burn with hate, lash out like an Ironborn- a fucking <em> Greyjoy. </em>Instead, Theon felt dizzy. The sight of the bastard, every stupid word the peasant addressed to him, his icy mocking stare, all ran through Theon like lightning. </p><p>“I know exactly who you are. I thought you had a steady hand.” The boy took Theon’s cup from him. </p><p>He quickly hid his trembling hand behind his back and bit his front teeth together. “I am not Robb’s prisoner.”</p><p>“No? Is the term ‘hostage’ much better? You’re clumsy for an accomplished archer, or is that another exaggeration you paid whores to spread?”</p><p>“Ha-<em> hostage </em>?” he choked on the word and spat out a laugh. “We are both outsiders, aren’t we, you and I? When I have my own castle, I’ll try to find you a position as a guard or perhaps a squire.”</p><p>“Castle!” Roose Junior’s eyebrows popped. His chin became bigger somehow when he guffawed. “Your own castle! My, my, thousand pardons, sweet Prince. What castle did you have your eye on? Winterfell?”</p><p>Casterly Rock, by the sea yet far from the Iron Islands. “Winterfell? I’m no Stark.”</p><p>“No.” </p><p>At last, a serving wench came by and filled Theon’s cup. </p><p>Roose Junior drank from it before offering it back. He laughed at the disgust pinching Theon’s face. “It’s Robb’s now, isn’t it? Did you always want Robb’s things, Theon?”</p><p>Theon shook his head, waiting to make sense of what he’d surely misunderstood. </p><p>“I did. One of his things, anyway.”</p><p><em> “Stop.” </em>Theon’s voice wasn’t his own. He sounded like a child. “Get away from me.”</p><p>“Why did he get everything handed to him? Even a pretty prisoner to follow him around like a loyal dog?”</p><p>Now Theon’s head spun, flushed. His mouth dried up without forming the right insult or retort so he pushed past the bastard and fled outside to get some fresh air. </p><p> </p><p>Before he reached the stairwell, a painful grip clamped down on Theon’s upper arm and spun him around. “What the fuck?”</p><p>Bolton’s bastard pushed him against the wall, pressing close. “You wouldn’t be running to that ginger cunt, would you?”</p><p>His touch was unbearable, setting off currents in Theon which pulled him to Bolton’s shores. Theon shoved and cursed the bastard but neither moved him.</p><p>“If I wasn’t here…” the boy clucked his tongue then smiled as he pulled back his fist. </p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Theon woke up with a pounding headache and swollen eye. He found himself in a stiff stale smelling bed.</p><p>Outside a reinforced oak door, a soft voice echoed against the tower’s stone. Theon could only make out <em> Ramsay </em> - <em> yes! </em> That’s his name. </p><p>“I smell it on him.” Ramsay’s voice was far more clear. “I’m telling you, I know as well as I know anything!”</p><p>“That says little.” The soft voice approached saying, “I’ll see for myself.”</p><p>
  <b>“Fine.”</b>
</p><p>As the door opened, Theon pulled quilted blankets over his head. His heart racing, he found himself reduced to a child when he was a <em> Greyjoy </em> and proven warrior.</p><p>“Theon, sweetling.” Ramsay’s called, at once sing-song and sharp. “Wake up, darling. Father would like a look at you.” </p><p>“Look?” He shuddered not to curl up when the quilts covering him were ripped away. “What is this? What are you doing?”</p><p>Roose Bolton stood over him and blinked. “He’s a virgin.”</p><p>Ramsay grinned. “Are you sure?”</p><p>“No!”</p><p>“Gods, he is,” Ramsay said, breathless. “Of course, he is! He’s been waiting for me.”</p><p>Roose stared at his son expectantly. “Did you want <em> me </em> to undress him for inspection?”</p><p>“No!” Ramsay’s broad hand landed on Theon’s chest. “<em>I’ll </em>do it.”</p><p>Someone had already stripped Theon to his smallclothes. “Was I injured?”</p><p>Instead of answering, Ramsay pulled his remaining clothes off as if hacking through thick brush to reach treasure.</p><p>For an instant, Theon entertained the idea that he’d pissed himself in a blackout. But he must have known deep down that he’d changed. The burning shame always waiting just behind him impaled Theon at last when the Bolton’s both looked between his legs where he was wet. </p><p>Roose inserted a prying finger. </p><p>Theon cried out at the pressure and bizarre intrusion but it didn’t hurt exactly and that made it worse. </p><p>“A very good temperature and consistency. Feels smooth. He’s fertile. Leave him to rest, you can marry tomorrow.”</p><p>Theon jerked up to sitting. “What? Oh, no…”</p><p>“He’s in heat. I have to secure our bond.”</p><p>“Ramsay, don’t be an animal. He’s a prince, not a bastard from a country mill. There are rules.”</p><p>“Since when do you care about rules?”</p><p>“When it’s in our interest. That’s when. This is very good, Ramsay. He stands to inherit a fortune if the Starks don’t kill him first.”</p><p>“They won’t <em>now</em>,” Ramsay laughed.</p><p>Roose sighed and rolled his eyes. “If we can use him to negotiate with Balon, this will be a meaningful victory for you. One to honor our House for generations.”</p><p>Ramsay stiffened, his eyes shined. “Our House?”</p><p>“We’ll bring your prize home. I’ll send word to the Greyjoy.”</p><p>“Wait!” They didn’t seem to hear Theon, like an awful dream.</p><p>“There’s a crowd, and a Sept isn’t there? I’ll marry him now. What?!”</p><p>“They’re <em> cleaning, </em> Ramsay. Besides, we need a maester to check him, witnesses for the consummation of your union, and a weirwood tree for the ceremony. Traditions matter.”</p><p>“Please don’t tell my father.”</p><p>Both Roose and Ramsay looked at Theon now, and they smiled with the same mocking amusement. “If I can’t do it now, you must kill or geld the tomcats at the Dreadfort before we arrive.”</p><p>Roose shrugged. “They’re a nuisance anyhow. You, in particular, have been unbearable.”</p><p>“GOOD THING I found my little prince, then! Isn’t it, Father? One to make even <em> you </em> happy.” While Ramsay’s face blanched and drew tight against his skull, Roose remained unphased by his blustering. </p><p>As soon as Roose left, Ramsay’s squared shoulders relaxed. He sat on the bed and pet Theon’s head. His pupils bloomed, making his artic eyes go dark. “Did you hear that? I’m a lord now.”</p><p>That was not what Theon had heard. “Why did you say the Starks…” he trailed off, having guessed the answer.</p><p>“I came here to show my father some Kraken scalps I collected. They came up the Honeywine-”</p><p>“No...”</p><p>“Want to see your former countrymen’s singed banner? When we get home, I’ll give it to you as a wedding gift.”</p><p>Theon could not understand things. “But Robb would never-”</p><p>“You’re not that fucking stupid, are you? My father said the first thing that Cat Stark did when she heard was call for your head. That’s why I came to rescue you.”</p><p>“Rescue?”</p><p>“You know yourself that Robb is fond of taking hostages, even when my lord father, a battle-hardened veteran, advised against it. And what good are hostages if your threats are empty? He already lost Jaime Lannister. The strength of his word is at stake, and that’s everything to a boy who wants to be a King.” </p><p>“But…”</p><p>“Krakens fight in Iron armor,” Ramsay said as though they’d been having another conversation.</p><p>“Uh, yes?”</p><p>“What do they do if they fall off their ships?”</p><p>Theon held his light head with one hand. “Well… drown.”</p><p>Ramsay laughed and pulled blankets up to Theon’s chin. “You’re driving me crazy,” he said hoarsely and bit hard into his sensuous lip. </p><p>“Why… why would you help me?”</p><p>Pleased by the question, Ramsay ran his thumb down Theon’s cheek. “The same reason Robb enjoyed having you trail behind him. I think I deserve the best of everything.”</p><p>
  <em> “Me?” </em>
</p><p>“What? Didn’t he ever tell you? Poor sweetling. Aren’t you lucky I’m here? Now no one else will hurt you.”</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Though he didn’t remember seeing the Dreadfort before, it was familiar. Perhaps because it was a grim as Theon had imagined. Ramsay’s quarters, however, offered some comforts. He had a well-tended fireplace, and a soft bed covered with silks and furs. A high window let in some daylight, but the foggy glass didn’t provide much in the way of scenery. It smelled like spiced wine, blood, and leather. </p><p>“Why are you pouting?”</p><p>Theon tore away from squinting through the windowpane. </p><p>The underlying anger always burning through Ramsay’s eyes and smiles now darkened his face. “You don’t like it?”</p><p>“No, your… castle? It’s better than any room I’ve ever had.”</p><p>The rage clouding Ramsay’s features parted. “I have refined taste. You appreciate that, don’t you? My last wife didn’t.”</p><p>“Last wife?” </p><p>“She wasn’t special like you, only an ordinary woman.”</p><p>“Oh.” </p><p>“I think a needy bitch in heat who will be mine and only mine is exactly what I need.”</p><p>Theon felt and sounded like Ramsay had punched him in the gut. He retreated to bed and pulled a fur around his traitorous body. </p><p>“Is that why you’re sulking?” Laughter glistened in his eyes again. “Because your father will know? You won’t have to see him again.”</p><p>“I won’t?” He hadn’t even thought about seeing his father in the flesh. Balon had been a phantom looming large in fading memories.</p><p>“You’re mine, not his.” Ramsay snapped his fingers. “It’s time to clean that wolf stench off of you.”</p><p>Theon got up and dropped the fur on the bed. “I didn’t know,” he confessed. “I nearly had myself convinced that I wouldn’t turn out this way. He always knew, and I wanted him to be wrong.”</p><p>“I always knew,” Ramsay said, pouncing and grabbing Theon by both arms. “<em>Me</em>. And who do you belong to?”</p><p>Theon flexed his jaw and swallowed. “You.” That didn’t seem to satisfy. “Only you.”</p><p>“That’s right, only me.” Ramsay chewed on his knuckle and drew a deep breath. </p><p>“What’s wrong?” He could make this work. <em> He had to. </em> </p><p>Theon had never exactly <em> come to terms </em> with the fact that Ned might kill him one day but he’d wrestled with the idea. Faced it every time he delivered Lord Stark’s great steel sword to him, so heavy for a child to carry. Every time he watched that sword sever a head from its shoulders, he knew his neck could be next. </p><p>Theon smiled now, as he did then. “I’m sure I can make you happy.”</p><p>Ramsay scoffed and smiled back. “Don’t cry, sweetling.”</p><p>“I’m not!” The smack to his face only registered after the sound. He blinked. Then his cheekbone warmed and throbbed. </p><p>“Don’t be <em> brave </em>either.”</p><p> </p><p>But he had to be brave when the Maester ordered him to undress and examined his shame with more invasive prying than Roose assaulted him with. </p><p>And he had to disappear when beautiful women who he would have charmed once washed and dressed him as if he were a doll. Showing him how to enhance his scent by putting his own wetness at the base of his neck and behind his ears, they complimented his clean, smooth nails and put oils in his hair that made it curl and shine more.</p><p> </p><p>Besides a handful of Freys and Karstarks, Theon didn’t recognize anyone at the thrown-together ceremony. All the better. The ladies attending him had dressed Theon in white linens and a white cloak, like a sacrifice.</p><p>Theon parroted vows he didn’t remember. Ramsay removed his cloak and gave him another; longer, warmer, lined with gray fur. Then, surrounded by barrel-chested warriors, Ramsay swept Theon up into his arms and carried him into the Dreadfort like the prize Roose said he was.<br/><br/></p><p>Happiness changed Ramsay’s face again. He basked in the merry music, food, wine, and attention. The moods that passed over him were something to behold. Every change held a fascination. Ramsay tore into the last of his lamb and smirked. “What are you staring at?”</p><p>“I think you’re making me crazy too,” Theon whispered. </p><p>“Hmm. Just wait.”</p><p>A table of Bolton men erupted without warning. </p><p>Ramsay grabbed Theon’s wrist with the same painful hold as the night at The Twins.</p><p>Theon couldn’t breathe. <em> This is it. This is the day. </em></p><p>They came storming up to the bridal dais looking like hungry hounds. Ramsay swiped his knife from the table and stood. “Don’t you fucking touch him.”</p><p>“Ah, come on, it’s tradition!” A jaundiced boy said through rotten teeth. </p><p>Ramsay threw the knife right into his heart and grabbed Theon’s, brandishing it. “<em>No one </em> touches him but <b>me.</b>”</p><p>The jaundiced boy sank to his knees then hacked and gasped in turns. </p><p>“Keep playing!” Ramsay shouted to the musicians, who promptly obeyed.</p><p>Two of the men carried the yellow boy out by his knees and shoulders. </p><p>“Ramsay.” Lord Bolton had approached the table. “This impulsive behavior had better improve.”</p><p>“Oh, Father, is it really a wedding if no blood is spilled?” </p><p>“Your friends should attend to-”</p><p>“Yes, I remember!” First Ramsay pulled Theon up by the arm, then he took his bride up into his arms. “They can listen outside the door. I think he’ll give a better performance than my dearly departed lady wife.”</p><p>His men barked and cheered at that, their wounded friend forgotten.</p><p> </p><p>Outside Ramsay’s chamber door, they’d worked up into a frenzy, saying the most disgusting things. Candles flickered, and the fire blazed. Theon trembled and burned with them. </p><p>Ramsay laid him in their bed and pulled off his new fine cloak. He took a curved knife from his hip and grabbed Theon’s white linen tunic. The blade flashed with the fire’s glow then tore through the linen. </p><p>After slicing and ripping the tunic off, Ramsay paused. He drew slow, deep breaths. “Do you know how you’re looking at me?” </p><p>If it reflected the way Ramsay stared at him, “Like I'm the first person to truly see you?”</p><p>Ramsay fell on him then, scratching his thighs as he tore off Theon’s breeches. He shoved Theon’s knees apart with his hips, slithered his hand under the small of Theon’s back, and pulled him down into place. </p><p>Being caged in by Ramsay’s power and the heat between them, Theon’s whole being hummed like a plucked bowstring. He held onto Ramsay’s ribs, falling while laying still. </p><p>The pain of penetration quickly paled as it set off a rapturous, grasping need. Theon held tighter. When Ramsay started moving, fear of injury gave way to fear of losing control. </p><p>Ramsay saw that fear for what it was and chased after it. The same galloping pace as a hunt, riding Blood, closing in, and then panting, his harried breath, and little moans. The shocked-wide eyes, the grunts giving way to groans and cries, the violent need, the closeness. Theon gripped him tight, nails digging into Ramsay’s flesh. He stiffened, almost seizing, then went limp under Ramsay. Beautifully passive. Serene as the dead. Ramsay had an explosion of relief that made him go blind. </p><p>When he could see again, Theon laid beneath him sleepy and reeling. </p><p>Neither one understood what had happened. </p><p>Though they were cheering for him, his boys’ presence had become an unbearable irritation. Ramsay shouted at them to fuck off already.</p><p>Theon jumped and crowded up against him. “Only you?”</p><p>“Only ever me.” He pet Theon, who relaxed. “Do you want me to destroy you again?”</p><p>“Like that?” Theon smiled when Ramsay did. “Yes.”</p><p>In warm layers of fur, Ramsay wrapped around Theon and buried them both.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>“Theon.”</p><p>He spun away from the window.</p><p>“Come back to bed.”</p><p>Theon obeyed, retreating from the cold, white, light. He was snatched and flipped onto his back with Ramsay pinning him. </p><p>“This is where you belong.”</p><p>He nodded. </p><p>“Then why do you look like you want to leave?”</p><p>“I don’t! I never want to leave you. Perhaps… leave your chambers now and then?”</p><p>Ramsay mulled it over with a slight smile. “I’ll take you to meet the girls!”</p><p> </p><p>Relieved that he hadn’t been led to a harem, Theon still clung to Ramsay when his row of hounds started barking and jumping.</p><p>“Look! They’re happy to see you!”</p><p>“Will they hurt me?”</p><p>“Never,” Ramsay laughed. “Aren’t you pathetic without your armor and bow to hide behind?”</p><p>“Hmm… I’m sorry.”</p><p>“Sorry, what?” Ramsay took keys off a hook and opened the first cage. A massive hound with a broad head and sleek black fur charged at Theon.</p><p>He cried out and hugged Ramsay’s chest. “Lord husband?”</p><p>“No… something sweeter. Look you, coward,” Ramsay laughed. “See her tail wagging? She’s smiling at you.”</p><p>“Oh.” Theon opened an eye. The Stark wolves never wagged their tails at him, nor did much but stiffen when he approached their owners. “My loving husband?”</p><p>“She likes you. You’ll hurt her feelings if you don’t pet her.”</p><p>Theon bit his lip and stroked her head. The beast wagged her tail more and trotted in a happy circle around him. “She does like me!”</p><p>“Obviously.” Ramsay left him to open the other cages. “You can’t lie to dogs. They know a person by their scent.”</p><p>“Really?” One hound rushed out too quickly and knocked him down.</p><p>“Easy!”</p><p>They all twitched, bending low when Ramsay snapped. When they sensed the dark cloud pass, the girls started licking Theon’s toes, hand, and face. </p><p>“No! No!” Theon started giggling. “Help! Please!”</p><p>“Please, what?”</p><p>“My love-” he stopped short, seeing bones through straw lining the floor of the cage across from him. <em> That couldn’t be. </em> Some animal must have bones that look similar.</p><p>“This is a safe place for you,” Ramsay said in a low voice. He pulled Theon to his feet. “It’s sweet that you’re so helpless.”</p><p>“Did the girls, um, like your last wife?”</p><p>“I never brought her home. She didn’t last long.”</p><p>“Wh-what happened?”</p><p>“She <em> insulted </em> me. She was cold and independent, so I left her alone. You can’t force people to love you, Theon. Only nature can do that.”</p><p>  </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>It was the chambermaid who told Lady Walda, and Lady Walda herself who finally convinced Theon to see the Maester. </p><p>“I don’t know what happened!”</p><p>“I think it’s just your cycle, dear. No need to worry. Let’s be sure, though. When mine first started it was heavy as well. Come on.” She stood at the foot of Ramsay’s ruined bed and offered a hand. “I’ll go with you.”</p><p>“But the sheets… he’ll be so angry.” </p><p>“Our washerwomen are very good at getting blood out. Icy water helps and we have plenty of that here. We’ll get you what you need and when you come back, you’ll have a nice clean bed.”</p><p>Theon took her soft, strong hand. “Thank you.”</p><p> </p><p>The trouble started trying to find his way back. He only knew how to get to the privy and <em> maybe </em> the kennel. </p><p>He passed a window overlooking the courtyard and saw men turned inside out, no, without skin. They hung from crosses and by noose. Bolton banners didn’t do the actual horror justice.</p><p>He heard Lord Bolton’s soft voice and hurried away from it. No one else could see him <em> like this, </em>in a bloodied bed shirt and a tight, padded loincloth.</p><p>Then he heard a crash and Ramsay shouting. “They’ll find him NOW!”</p><p>“He’s only just left your chambers, calm yourself.”</p><p>“FATHER!”</p><p>“No, it’s unnecessary.” Roose smiled flatly. “There he is.”</p><p>Ramsay spun, looking feral. “YOU!”</p><p>“Ramsay, you’ve made such progress with these outbursts. The boy was searching you out.”</p><p>“I’m sorry! I got lost!”</p><p>Ramsay overtook him quickly, blind with rage. </p><p>The punch to Theon’s stomach made him collapse and shrivel.</p><p>“You want to see Robb Stark? Is that it?”</p><p>“No! Please!”</p><p>Ramsay kicked Theon’s stomach and grabbed a fistful of his hair. “He would have killed you, you stupid cunt! So my father killed him first. There is NO ONE to run to. Do you know what your father said before he got drunk and fell off a fucking bridge-”</p><p>“<em>Ramsay</em>. Look at what you’ve done.” Roose pointed to the blood between Theon’s legs. It soaked the bottom of his nightshirt. Why would he leave in a nightshirt?</p><p>Theon wept, curled tight the stone floor. He only babbled apologies.</p><p>Ramsay knelt beside Theon and looked up at his father, lost.</p><p>“Walda said he went to see the Maester about a change in his cycle. What a shame. You’ll contain yourself next time.” He touched Ramsay’s back and smiled sharply. “You’ve changed.”</p><p>Ramsay gathered Theon into his arms and carried him back to their chambers, shushing him. His anguish seeped into Ramsay, a monstrous intrusion. “It’s all right now.” </p><p><em> Changed? Fuck him, he’s senile. </em>Ramsay hadn’t changed, Theon had. Well, not changed perhaps, but stopped acting. Ramsay had tried a hundred different ways to keep this little shit in line but Theon was never conniving, only sweet. </p><p>Sweet when he giggles openly, helplessly convulsing with laughter like a child. Sweet when he looks up, wide eyes shining at Ramsay like he’s a god. Sweet the way he clings to Ramsay and lights up seeing him, even when he’s scared. It all left Ramsay, perhaps, a little sweeter.</p>
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